


I Mean It

by FloingMachines



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, So much angst, Some Fluff, but so much angst man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloingMachines/pseuds/FloingMachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hell with her and hell without her</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Mean It

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR SUCH PATIENCE  
> This should be the last "warm up oneshot" I put out before I update Cameraman and then Shots on Broadway

            There isn’t much you can do when you live together and you’re trying not to be attracted to your roommate. You just continue on and continue to be attracted to your roommate until it drives you up a wall you start staring get getting careless and…

            “Angie, are you alright?” There were eggs on the stove and Peggy was attempting to cook them with a fork. Angie had been staring at her _again_ and it was starting to grate on the actor’s patience with herself. She needed to stop staring because where would she go if she got kicked out?

            More importantly how would poor Peggy Carter not starve to death?

            “You shouldn’t be cooking eggs with a fork, Pegs.” She said, jumping up from the barstool and taking the fork from her and throwing it in the sink. “Wooden spoons or pancake flippers tend to work better and they don’t ruin the pan.”

            Peggy smiled and laughed. “You don’t really learn how to cook in the army, you know.”

            “You _do_ learn how to cook when you grow up with an Italian family and I promise you this is not how you’re supposed to cook scrambled eggs.”

            Angie nudged Peggy out of the way of the stove and tried to salvage the mess she had made out of breakfast. No amount of wooden spoons or pancake flippers were going to be able to get the burnt mess Peggy Carter called scrambled eggs off the poor pan. She sighed and turned off the stove and left the pan there to cool down, with any luck she might be able to salvage the pan.

            “I’m sorry about the breakfast.”

            It didn’t really bother Angie. Peggy couldn’t cook and quite frankly would starve before asking anyone’s help with cooking. She was Peggy Carter and she was a little too proud to ask for help in the kitchen.

            “It’s not a big deal. I’ll cook dinner tonight, alright?” Angie asked, smiling as Peggy pulled a light jacket over her blouse and checking her lipstick over in the mirror by the door before examining her hair.

            “That would be lovely.” The English woman turned and genuinely smiled at Angie, leaving a small kiss on Angie’s cheek that sent the younger woman into a blushing mess. “Thank you so much, honestly I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

            Angie laughed quietly as she ran out of the door. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” She whispered.

            She collapsed on a couch in the middle of the room, running her fingers through her hair. This whole _attraction_ thing that was happening to her wasn’t working out. It was an inconvenience in the least and that inconvenience lived with her and was making her life a living hell.

            Okay so it wasn’t a living hell it was actually really nice living with Peggy Carter. She was nice to look at. She was really nice to come home to after a shitty day at the Automat or auditions without callbacks and she was nice to share a bottle of wine you dug up from the wine cellar with.

            Peggy Carter was a nice person to have in general.

            Angie Martinelli glanced at the clock on the wall and realized if she didn’t get her ass in gear Peggy Carter was going to be the reason she was late for work.

* * *

 

            She glared at him when he didn’t leave a tip in the tip jar. Honestly, she couldn’t contain the outright disgust anymore and she was working late tonight to cover Carlos’s shift that he couldn’t make because his wife was working late and honestly she didn’t care too much about the sob story after that.

            “I thought people were tipping after the war.” A hard British voice came from the doorway. Streetlamps illuminated Peggy Carter from the back as she stared at the rugged man sitting at the counter. He was the last customer and Angie had planned to go home after he left, but it seemed as if home had come to her.

            “Nice ass.” He said, studying her. Angie bit down hard on her lip to stop from screaming or lashing out as the comment left his lips.

            It happened before any of them could really blink. The chair the man was sitting on was pulled out from under him and he spilled on the linoleum floor, looking somewhat lost and scared at the same time.

            “I suggest you give this nice young lady a tip.” Peggy said, smiling from ear to ear but poison dripping off of her words. “And then I suggest you _never come back here_.”

            The cook in the back was staring at the three people in the front and the man on the floor still had his jaw on his knees before nodding mutely and dumping the contents of his wallet into the tip jar and fleeing the Automat without another word. Peggy laughed and picked up the barstool that was on the floor and sat on it as she rested her head on the counter.

            “I thought you were making dinner.” She mumbled.

            Angie was speechless. Everyone was speechless. The cook had pretty much stopped moving entirely.

            The thing that shocked Angie was the vulnerability of Peggy Carter at that exact moment. The entire weight of her career, her life, and the war seemed to take its toll under her closed eyes, lines etched too deep into her face for a woman of her age and no lines around the edges of her lips from smiling. Her face was like paper and time had done nothing but relentlessly cut into it.

            There were scars on her face, too, Scars that ran from the tip of her eye to the bridge of her nose and a scar that traveled her whole jawline. They were white, but fading and only added to how unkind time was to the poor agent.

            In a moment of bravery Angie touched her fingers to the scar running her jawline. Peggy’s eyes flashed open and her eyes met the waitresses and neither of them could think of a single word to utter in that moment and the whole world seemed to freeze. For a moment there was an intimacy between them, an intimacy that there wasn’t with sex and it was torn apart by Angie gazing away.

            It left her wanting for more.

* * *

 

            The nightmares were the worst. When they first moved in she could ignore them, try and sleep through the muffled screams and then the cries that would follow and they wouldn’t make eye contact the next morning. Before the real problems began she could just ignore the screams and drown them out with her own, in her head.

            Then it became harder and harder to drown them out. It felt like knives, a new one every night, but she slept through it because as far as either of them needed to be concerned Angie _couldn’t_ hear them. It was easier if she still pretended even though each scream hurt worse. It felt like it hurt _her_. It hurt and it hurt and then she smiled and carried on. That’s just what you do.

            Until one night where she was curled over on the bed, trying to drown out the screams, trying to rip out the knives. Until one night where she found herself crying too and she wandered out of her bedroom and down the hall to Peggy’s where she slipped in ever so quietly.

            The silk sheets were a mess. The duvet was too and Peggy Carter was splayed in the middle of the bed, still thrashing and faintly crying from the nightmare. Angie couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep or some hell in-between so she held her breath and picked up the sheets from the floor.

            Ever so gently she laid them over Peggy’s shaking form, smoothing out the edges and tucking them in before picking up the duvet and laying it over her. She turned to walk out when a small voice stopped her.

            “Angie?” Peggy asked.

            “Are you alright?” Their voices didn’t seem to rise over a whisper level.

            “Thank you.” They stared at each other for another moment. “You’ve been able to hear me since the beginning, haven’t you?”

            “Yeah.”

            Angie turned to walk out of the room again.

            “Angie?”

            “Hm?”

            “Please stay.”

            Peggy was sitting up in the bed, the sheets held close to her and her eyes bloodshot from crying. Angie’s lower lip got sucked in-between her teeth before making her way over to the other side of the bed and slipping under the sheets until her head found a pillow and Peggy scooted herself closer until Angie was completely wrapped around her.

            It was like an impulse when it happened, a brief press of Angie’s lips against the back of the agent’s neck and her arms wrapped around her but it happened and Peggy let out a content sigh and Angie watched her breathing rise and fall until it hit a normal rate and then allowed herself the luxury of falling asleep beside her.

* * *

 

            The movements are unexpected and Angie wakes up only a few hours later to Peggy crushing her lips against hers and for a moment Angie kisses back and holds Peggy close, tearing their lips apart. Peggy began to shake and didn’t say a word as she held her against her chest.

            She was cradling Agent Carter against her chest, she was seeing the woman at her most vulnerable, and she was seeing herself at her most vulnerable. Peggy had just kissed her. Peggy had just kissed her like she meant it and the only thing Angie was thinking about was Peggy.

            _“Are you alright?”_ That’s what she wanted to say, but it never came out. Instead it came out as a squeak that when she opened her mouth snowballed into silent tears rolling down her face and dripping into Peggy’s hair.

            “I’m sorry.” That’s what she hears instead when Peggy opens her mouth and she feels the woman’s nails digging into their back and they’re both enveloped in a crushing hug. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

            “I made dinner.”

            It’s two nights later and Peggy sits down wordlessly, but smiling across from the stable. There’s wine in both of the glasses and her grandmother’s chicken is on the plates and for the first time in a while Angie sees Peggy truly smiling and it makes her smile and the entire night it feels like there’s an amazing energy _everywhere_.

            They had too much wine and the candles have burned out on the table and they’re _laughing_ so hard over something someone said that isn’t even coherent anymore. There’s a blush on Peggy’s cheeks as her head tips back and she lets out this howling laugh and she drinks more wine and sits on the couch by the kitchen.

            “Angie! Come here!” She beckons her over from her seat at the kitchen table and like she was in a dream wanders over to the couch and falls on top of Peggy, which causes them to fall into another fit of laughter.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Angie awkwardly apologizes and tried to resituate herself on the couch, but somehow she found herself hovering over Peggy…and it’s a bad situation. She’s losing control, but somehow she can’t stop another laugh that gets pried out of her as she says the exact words that were never _ever_ meant to leave her mouth.

            “I love you.”

            “Don’t tell me that if you don’t mean it.” Peggy was serious and their eyes met and Angie didn’t have to say it, she didn’t have to say it.

            “I mean it.”

            Peggy tasted like wine and Angie was sure she did too, but under the wine and the perfume she tasted like _Peggy_ and there was no other way to put it. It made Angie feel light in the head and completely incoherent and it didn’t help that she could feel Peggy’s nails dragging up and down her thighs and she couldn’t think for the life of her. She was falling apart.

            Their kisses had become more and more heated now and Angie had shed her jacket on the floor and was in the process of kicking off her skirt and they stopped. Slightly panting and gazing at each other half undressed and disheveled and they stopped.

            “I mean it.” Angie said. “I mean it when I say I love you.”

            Peggy nodded and then met her gaze. “I love you too.”

 

           

**Author's Note:**

> What to look forward to over the next week:  
> Tomorrow- Camerman (Orphan Black) update!!!!  
> Sometime next week- Shots on Broadway (Agent Carter) update!!!


End file.
